The Bitch of Living
by scribbler567
Summary: A series of drabbles for each song in the show, telling the story of Hanschen and Ernst.
1. Mama Who Bore Me

Dinner was already on the table by the time Herr Rilow came stumbling in the door, throwing his brief case down in the hall. Hanschen cringed at the sound it made when it hit the floor, glancing at his younger sister who was shaking in her chair. They all hated when he came home angry. It was never a good sign, not for the children and especially not for their mother. His father took off his hat and sat at the table, barely acknowledging the meal his wife had worked so hard on. "Herr Schmidt is dead," he growled, not bothering to look up as he began to eat.

Hanschen widened his eyes at his father insensitivity. None of his family was emotional, but his father showed no sign of pity or sympathy for the death of his business partner. "What on earth happened?" his mother asked, practically choking on her food.

Hanschen's sister Martha looked at him, mouthing, "What happened?" to him. Hanschen could only shake his head, waiting for his father to answer.

"It's absolutely disgraceful," his father replied. "He was a homosexual. I had only heard rumors but then I saw him with a man this morning before he came into the office. And I told him he had better not step foot into my office if that was the choice he was making. He started crying, the pathetic fool, begging me to keep quiet. I told him it was illegal and I had no intention of keeping quiet. I suggest he better begin running because the police are quite talented around these parts. Well, by lunch time he had killed himself. The man I believed to be suitable to be my business partner turned out to be a sinner in every manner of the word. What a disgrace. To not only have feelings for a man, but then to kill yourself. If there is a funeral, none of you are to attend it. Do you hear me?"  
The whole family nodded, but his mother was the first to speak. "I for one am glad that you didn't keep him around if _that_ is what he has been doing. We don't want our children around someone like that. It's disgusting and just unnatural."

Hanschen felt a knot suddenly grow in his stomach and he found he couldn't eat any more of the food in front of him. His face was bright red, and he prayed to God that his father wouldn't take notice. The blonde boy tried to take a few more bites, but it was a sorry attempt. He stood up abruptly, almost knocking his dishes over. "May I be excused?" he asked.

His parents looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Of course, son," his father replied. "Why are you getting up so quickly?"

"I have a lot of schoolwork to do, I best be getting back to it."

His father smiled. "That's my son. Always the brightest student of his year!" As Hanschen walked away, he heard his parents continuing to talk. He stopped to listen momentarily.

"It's about time we fixed Hanschen up with a nice woman," his father said.

"He's still in school, I think he has a few more years."

"Ah but Herr Schmidt has me thinking. I am so lucky to have a son like Hanschen, strong, smart and certainly not a homosexual. I want to ensure he gets the best woman Germany has to offer."

"I understand, dear," his mother replied. "But we know Hanschen would never have feelings for a man. My God, I can't imagine the disappointment that Frau Schmidt must feel. The shame he brought on that family! If I were his mother, I would wish he wasn't mine. I would never ever be able to accept that I gave birth to him."

Grabbing his satchel, Hanschen turned away, practically running up the stairs and slamming the door to his room, locking it behind him. He slowly sunk down onto the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. He breathed deeply, trying to stop his mind from racing.

He took the postcard of his favorite model from his satchel, holding it in his trembling hands. He stared at her beautiful figure. She had round hips, large breasts and gorgeous hair that fell in curls across her chest. Hanschen kept his eyes steadily on her, hoping that it would bring him some sort of arousal. She was beautiful, sure, but no matter what he did, how he touched himself, he couldn't garner a response from his body or his mind.

His breathing became heavy as he tried to desperately to picture something, anything that would arouse him. But, the only figure he could picture was flat chested, and much more masculine than the model would ever be. Grabbing his head in his hands, he fought back the urge to scream. "Fuck," he hissed under his breath. "Please stop."

It was a truth he had been coming to terms with for weeks, a secret he had been trying to keep, something he had been trying to understand. Hanschen couldn't understand why he had begun feeling this way. He couldn't even identify when he had started to feel this way. The only thing that he knew was that it was wrong. It was wrong and abnormal and he was going to hell.

"Mama, I'm so sorry," he growled, punching the wall behind him so hard his fist began to throb. "I've betrayed you." For the first time, Hanschen allowed himself to say it aloud. Albeit it was only to himself, it still was hard to get the words out without choking on them. "I…I think I have feelings for men."

Hanschen was only twelve.


	2. Mama Who Bore Me Reprise

Three years had passed since the night Hanschen had acknowledged his desires, and while they still remained a secret, he somehow had come to accept them. In those years, he had seen a dramatic change in himself.

He was different. He was different from the other boys his age. They all spoke of the girls in the town that they desired and what they liked about them. It always made Hanschen uncomfortable because he knew he had nothing to add to the conversations. Of course the girls were pretty, he could see that, but he couldn't understand the unyielding attraction the other boys had to them. For him, it just wasn't there. He didn't feel the same way and he never had.

Yet, in an attempt to cover up this deep rooted desire, he had built a wall between himself and the world. He had built a wall of arrogance and anger. It was anger at himself, at society, and at his family. Feeling so isolated and alone for so many years had taught him to protect himself. Any emotions that he had left for others had disappeared, buried beneath years of confusion and self-hatred. The arrogance he showed the world was the only way he knew how to blend into society. If they feared him, they wouldn't question him. He didn't want to end up like Herr Schmidt.

As he grew into a teenager, Hanschen developed a total disregard for the society he lived in. He hated the rules and the culture. They had no tolerance for anything they didn't understand. So what if he preferred the intimate company of a man? Why did it matter if it was his life? Hanschen had spent many sleepless nights trying to understand where these beliefs came from. He longed to understand what made people so full of hate. It took years for him to understand that he would never understand and the best thing to do was to accept, but not conform. Conformity was for cowards, and Hanschen was anything but a coward.


	3. All That's Known

God, he hated the other boy. His perfectly straight, brown hair and dark brown eyes. The heroic face he put on for the entire town. It was as if he were every girl's dream. As they sat outside, all of the boys working on their Latin, Melchior had taken over the conversation, giving another one of his motivational talks.

Everyone was listening to him intently as he talked about how fucked up society was. It wasn't that Hanschen didn't agree with Melchior. In fact, he and Melchior had practically the same views and opinions about their society. Yet, he found the brunette sickening. He acted as if he were the savior of them all, as if he was the only one who saw the flaws in the culture in which they lived. Either everyone was blind to it without Melchior to guide them or they were too afraid to speak up. Hanschen always got his word in, but none of the other boys paid much attention to him. He wasn't Melchior, so of course, he didn't matter.

Melchior had always treated him well. He had always been a friend. Hanschen didn't really have many friends, at least, no true friends. Melchior was the closest he came to having a friend, and it was really just their opinions that gave them any sort of bond. He wasn't particularly fond of his classmate. In fact, Hanschen found him rather irritating to be around.

He sat with his book in his arms, trying to memorize the first few lines of the _Aeneid_ as they were assigned. All the others boys were staring at him, their eyes wide. Only one other sat actually doing his work. Ernst Robel.

When Hanschen glanced up, he saw Ernst with his head down, mouthing the words to himself. He was on the other side of the group, so Hanschen couldn't speak to him. But, he watched him for a few moments. He had known Ernst since they were children. Ernst had always been the most pathetic of the class. He was weak, small, and not particularly intelligent. He truly had nothing to offer. Hanschen couldn't remember speaking a word to the boy in all the years they had known each other. They were far too different. There was nothing in Ernst that was of any interest to Hanschen.

Yet, he found himself staring. The boy had his knees pulled up to his chest, his book balanced perfectly on his stocking covered knees. His brown hair fell into his eyes a little. Hanschen had never noticed that although small, Ernst was fairly attractive. He was tall and thin, sure, but not unattractive by any means. Hanschen shook his head and turned his gaze back down to his Latin.


	4. The Bitch of Living

Hanschen had a love hate relationship with gym class. Bobby Maler was there, and dear God was that the best part of his week. Watching that boy change was like nothing Hanschen had ever seen. The young man was perfect. He looked amazing in his khakis, but when he slowly slipped them down his legs, it took all of Hanschen's self-control not to pounce.

He had a system. He would put his bag down on the bench and then make sure he was facing the other side of the changing room, at a prime angle to see Bobby change. Every time he did it, he felt a little dirty, like he was doing something that was completely and totally wrong. And it was. But, it was all that Hanschen had. All the other boys could bond over the girls and catch a glimpse of them. But, he had nothing. Gym with Bobby Maler was the closest thing Hanschen had to any kind of intimacy with a man. He tried not to enjoy it too much, hoping nobody would notice how tight fitting his gym shorts always were.

One day, Hanschen had been changing, his eyes glued to Bobby, when he felt another set of eyes on him. Turning slowly to his side, he saw Ernst watching him. The scrawny boy soon made eye contact with Hanschen, and his cheeks turned bright red. His eyes lowered before he turned away, scrambling to dress himself.

Confused and slightly intrigued, Hanschen slipped his pants on, glancing at Ernst from the corner of his eyes. As the other boy rolled his stockings down, Hanschen found himself staring as intently as he had at Bobby. His pants began to tighten even more, and he cursed himself. What was going on? Was _Ernst_ turning him on?

The boy was thin, sure, but something about watching his small form slipping his clothes off had Hanschen hungry for him. Hanschen swallowed hard, closing his eyes tightly. God, life was a bitch sometimes.


	5. My Junk

"How was school?" his mother asked as Hanschen came into the kitchen to grab one of the cookies she had made.

"It went well," he replied, not giving much attention to what she was asking.

"Are your grades still high?" she asked.

Hanschen smiled. "Of course, mama," he replied, kissing her cheek. "I'm going to do some work in my room until dinner."

"Good boy," she answered, turning back to the dinner she was making.

Closing the door to his room, Hanschen took off his scarf and coat, throwing it into the chair he had sitting in the corner. He turned his small radio on, listening to the song that began playing.

Exhausted, he laid down on his bed, facing the ceiling. He needed to be alone. It had been weeks since he had truly been alone. He needed the time to be alone and just let his thoughts travel.

He closed his eyes and one image came to his mind. Ernst Rilow. Ever since he and Ernst had made eye contact in the changing room, Hanschen had had a strange fascination with his classmate. There had been a look in Ernst's eyes that day, a look Hanschen was used to seeing in his own eyes when he saw Bobby Maler. It was a look of want. Unlike the other boys, Hanschen had never had someone of the gender he wanted desire him. Any little hope in his mind of being able to be with a man was a hope he needed. More than anything, Hanschen wanted to see what it felt like. His imagination, he was sure, was nothing compared to the real thing. Of course he had kissed his fair share of girls, but it wasn't exactly pleasant to him. He wanted a man. That was all Hanschen wanted.

Ever since that day, Ernst had crowded his thoughts. A desire had been building inside of him, and he felt himself watching his classmate more and more. When he walked by, Hanschen wondered what he was doing, where he was going. It was like Hanschen was a ghost following behind Ernst's every move. He hadn't brought himself to say anything to Ernst, but he had plans to. He was going to make the boy his, at least to experiment. He felt nothing romantically for him, but there was no easier target. Ernst was the weakest, most naive member of their class.

But, he didn't have him and he would have to make do with what he had. He opened his satchel and took out the postcard of the model he so often turned to. She was nothing like what he wanted, but she was still beautiful. Leaning against his pillows, he held her tight in one hand as he lowered the other one, unzipping his pants and hissing as the cold air hit his exposed skin.


	6. Touch Me

For the first time in weeks, Hanschen had found an excuse to stay behind in class. Ernst moved so slowly that he was always the last one out of the room, and Hanschen had never felt comfortable waiting for him. Taking his time to gather his own things, Hanschen followed at a safe distance behind Ernst as he walked home. The boys lived close to one another, so it was still logical to follow his classmate out of the schoolyard.

Ernst took a different path home than Hanschen ever had. He went through the vineyards, and Hanschen made sure to keep far behind so Ernst wouldn't notice his presence. After a few minutes of walking, Ernst turned off the path and ducked beneath a thicket of vines. Hanschen stopped, wondering if he should go after him.

Unable to resist the temptation, Hanschen found an opening in the vines, sticking his head through enough so he could see Ernst sitting alone in a shaded part of the vineyard.

The young boy looked nervous. That was the first thing that Hanschen noticed. Even from how far he was, he could see the brunette's hands shaking. Despite the cold, Ernst removed his blazer and loosened his tie. Even this simple movement made Hanschen's body begin to react.

Ernst slowly ran one hand down his chest, slowly letting it wander the crotch of his shorts. He exhaled audibly. He was biting his lip so hard that it looked like it was going to begin bleeding. Ernst unbuttoned his pants, slipping them down to his knees, exposing his underwear. Hanschen widened his eyes, unable to believe what he was witnessing. Was this what innocent little Ernst did after school?

Soon his underwear too hung at his knees, and he let his hand wonder to touch his own skin. Hanschen bit back a groan he so desperately wanted to let out. This was nothing like he had ever expected. His erection grew harder and he tried desperately to keep quiet.

Ernst was clearly unexperienced in all meanings of the word. As Hanschen watched the boy begin to touch himself, he was slow, a look of pure guilt written across his face. His cheeks were bright red and his whole body was trembling.

After a few minutes, Ernst removed his hand, breathing heavily. Tears were streaming down his face. He looked so desperate and yet so lost. "God…please, someone touch me," he whispered in his small and squeaky voice.

Ernst wanted someone to touch him? Hanschen smirked. He was more than happy to fulfill that request. It was all going to be easier than he thought.

The tears were still falling down Ernst's face as he continued touching himself, the tears splashing against his bare legs. Hanschen couldn't help but begin to rub himself through his clothes, knowing it was far too risky to begin anything in the middle of the vineyard's path. It was hard to contain himself. Ernst looked so…hot?

Hanschen didn't think he would ever use Ernst Rilow and hot in the same thought pattern, but he was so overwhelmingly aroused that he didn't care if it was strange or not. The only thing Hanschen knew was he wanted Ernst and as he watched the brunette pleasure himself, it was only Ernst that he wanted.


	7. The Word of Your Body

By far the most athletic in the class, Hanschen was amazed that he still got stuck cleaning up all the equipment at the end of the day. The only thing he wanted was to take a shower and go home. The day had been long enough with two tests, and he was in no mood to be in school any later than he needed to be. He left class and stumbled back into the changing room, quickly stripping down and wrapping himself in a towel to take a quick shower.

Until he got to the showers, he hadn't noticed that one was still on. Stepping into the communal shower, Hanschen noticed that Ernst was still washing himself. Trying to remain casual, he turned on one of the shower heads and rinsed himself beneath it. Ernst was two spaces away, and he couldn't help but continue to peak at the boy beside him. It was the first time he had seen him in the showers, but he hadn't ever remembered enjoying it as much as he was.

Ernst was staring at him too, his eyes skimming over Hanschen's body. They finally made eye contact, and Hanschen could see Ernst's eyes were wide filled with desire. "Ernst," Hanschen said, running his hands through his hair as the water ran through each strand.

"Y-yes, H-Hanschen?"

"Touch me."

"What?"

"I can see it in your eyes. I dare you to touch me."  
"H-Hanschen, you're a _man_ ," he put emphasis on the word _man_ as if it were some terrible and horrible thing to be.

"I am and so are you. All men have their needs, don't they, dear Ernst?"

"I g-guess so," he replied.

Hanschen moved closer to him, grabbing onto his wet arm. Ernst put a hand on his chest, and Hanschen shut his eyes. It had been so long since any other human had put a hand on his body. Even the smallest touch sent him reeling.

"This isn't so bad is it, Ernst? You enjoy it, don't you?"

Ernst was trembling. "I-I do."

Hanschen pressed himself against the other boy, holding him tightly to his body. One couldn't call it a hug because it wasn't a hug. It wasn't a warm and loving embrace. Rather, it was a need to feel another person's body, a response to the words that the other person's body was calling for.

Nothing much happened. Hanschen ran his hands across Ernst's body, breathing heavily as he finally made contact with a man. It was nothing intimate. It was only a touch, but as he hands ran across his classmate's soft skin, he grew more and more aroused. Though shy at first, Ernst slowly began to let his hands glide up and down Hanschen's arms and slightly lower down his body.

Hanschen groaned and pressed himself dangerously close to Ernst. Ernst was breathing heavily now, his mouth close to Hanschen's ear, so close he could hear each sharp exhale coming off of the thin boy.

Oddly enough, there was nothing sexual about it, at least not in the way Hanschen imagined sex. They didn't kiss. They didn't even begin to explore what it was like to give pleasure to someone else. They simply touched. They tried to get a sense of how wonderful it was to be skin to skin and body to body. Hanschen found it was enough. His body was aching to be near someone. It didn't have to be sexual. His body was begging to be close to another, and he finally listened to the words that tore at his mind.

It didn't last more than a few moments when Herr Baker's footsteps could be hear in the changing room, and the two pulled apart, rinsing off the last of their soap.

Hanschen shut the water off soon after, wrapping himself in a towel. "Good day, Ernst," he said simply.

Ernst, jaw hanging open, stared at him with his deep brown eyes. "G-good day, Hanschen. I'll see you t-tomorrow."

Hanschen's body had never been more thankful.


	8. The Dark I Know Well

Everyone was staring. Yet nobody made a move to do anything about it. Hanschen could see the look of sympathy written across his classmates' faces, but they clearly didn't pity their friend enough to make sure he was alright. It wasn't that Hanschen cared. He didn't. But, he was curious as to what had happened.

During lunch, he found Ernst sitting alone beneath a tree, eating the sandwich Hanschen was sure his mother packed him. The large bruise that covered Ernst's eye was even worse up close. Hanschen took a seat beside Ernst, and stretched his legs out in front of him. The two had barely spoken since their encounter in the showers. "Since all these idiots are too useless to ask what happened to your eye, I am afraid I must be the one to ask."

Ernst looked shocked by the question. Hanschen pulled an apple out of his satchel and took a bite, waiting for the shy boy to reply. "Oh, I-I fell."

Hanschen swallowed what he was chewing, shaking his head. It was an excuse he had used himself so many times. He knew it was just that- an excuse. Ernst was lying, and while he wasn't an emotional man, Hanschen knew the pain all too well.

"If you fell, then surely we must have you go to the infirmary. We can't have you walking around with a black eye, now can we?"

"Oh no! I- I don't need to go. I'll be fine," Ernst quickly replied.

"How did you fall?" Hanschen asked, taking a bite of his apple.

"I tripped on my way home from school yesterday and I hit my face on a few rocks. I'm a k-klutz, I suppose."

"You may want to work on your lying skills, Ernst," Hanschen replied, turning to look at Ernst in the eyes for the first time since he had sat down.

"W-what are you talking about?"

"I suppose you could say I know this all too well. I overused the falling excuse years ago. So, as soon as he came home angry, I began to think of my excuse for the next day. Of course now, I have learned to defend myself. I'm no longer the weak child I once was."

Ernst was silent for a few moments, looking down at the grass. Hanschen smirked a little to himself. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he pitied Ernst. He was sure Ernst didn't hit back the way he had learned to.

"Your father…"

"Yes," Hanschen admitted. It was the first time he had ever told anyone.

"It…It gets to me sometimes. I-I don't get very good grades and h-he saw my last test grade last night. You can see it d-didn't satisfy him."

It lasted only a few moments, but the two seemed to have switched emotions. Hanschen found himself feeling oddly sympathetic towards Ernst. He felt a weird knot in his stomach when he looked at the bruised young man. His heart went out to him. And Ernst was oddly quiet, his voice low and face void of any emotion.

Hanschen looked at him for a few moments, trying to figure out why he actually _cared_ about someone else. He never paid attention to the troubles around him, let alone try and help someone. But, he understood the darkness that Ernst was being surrounded by. He knew all too well what he felt and how the pain hurt more inside than outside. Years of it had made him numb, but he knew Ernst wasn't. Ernst's pain was still very much fresh. It wasn't so bad, he decided, to help someone once.

Besides, it was Ernst. The closer he got to Ernst, the closer he got to seducing the boy. Maybe it was a sick plan, but Hanschen's brain had ceased to be the driving force behind his actions long ago.


	9. And Then There Were None

Bracing himself against the cold, Hanschen wrapped himself up in his scarf and coat. His entire class was gathered around Melchior, and he stopped to see what was going on. Hanschen tapped on Ernst's shoulder, asking him what had happened.

Ernst turned to face him, his eyes wide with concern. "Moritz is gone…"

"What do you mean he's gone?"

"H-he was thrown out of his house because he d-didn't get promoted," Ernst replied. "He was one of my best friends, H-Hanschen." Hanschen hated to admit that he had always like Moritz. His classmate was gentle and had always been good to Hanschen, even as they got older.

Mindlessly, Hanschen rubbed Ernst's arm gently. When their eyes met, Hanschen pulled away, trying to play it off. His hands were shaking, and he knew it wasn't just from the cold. He had no clue why he was being so nice to Ernst. His classmate seemed to have such an effect on him. He only talked to the boy so he would be able to use him for his own needs, but he was acting as if he cared about him. Hanschen shook his head, clearing his throat. "Well, Moritz will be fine…" He wondered if his voice gave away the fact that he had no clue if Moritz would be alright. Who could say?

"Do you think?"

Hanschen nodded. "I do."

Ernst reached out and hugged him, and Hanschen simply stood there, hoping that nobody looked over. He didn't want to hug him back, Hanschen hated hugs. Yet, Ernst was warm against him, and Hanschen awkwardly closed the gap between them, hugging Ernst back. When Ernst pulled away, Hanschen found he had rather enjoyed the embrace.

"Thank you, Hanschen," Ernst said sadly.

"At least this means you get promoted," Hanschen replied.

"B-but _I'm_ the reason h-he is out on the street," Ernst insisted, "This is all my fault. If something happens to him, it's my fault, Hanschen."

"His marks weren't good enough. You can't do anything about that."

"But if I had failed, he could still b-be here."

Hanschen looked him in the eye. "You earned the grades to be promoted. You are supposed to be here. Be here with us, Ernst."

With that, Hanschen turned and walked away, not wanting to get too sentimental over Ernst. He was almost starting to think of him as a friend.


	10. The Mirror Blue Night

It was nights like these when Hanschen didn't mind Melchior so much. His father had gone away for business and his mother had accompanied him so it left him with the house to himself. Because of this, he had invited the entire class and some of the local girls over. Though Hanschen wasn't one for social gatherings, he would never miss a chance to drink. It was the best way for him to forget the world around him and not have to take responsibility for his actions.

As he sat in the corner, watching them, Hanschen took a swig of the fifth drink he had had that night. He noticed that, for the first time, the other boys were making attempts to get close to the girls. They all spoke of things they wanted to do, barriers they wanted to break down, but they never had. He saw Melchior moving towards Wendla, running his hand across her shoulders and down her arm. A few of his other classmates were getting awfully close to the other girls. He rolled his eyes. They were so immature sometimes. They didn't know the first thing about seduction.

After a few hours or a few minutes, Hanschen hadn't paid much attention to the time, Ernst came walking down the cellar stairs and into the room. Hanschen immediately looked up, his heart racing a little as he saw him. His face was beginning to blush and he cursed himself, taking another sip of his beer.

Melchior greeted him and handed him a drink, and Ernst looked at it, and then thanked his friend. Hanschen crossed his legs, curious as to what Ernst would do. The small boy opened the bottle and took a sip, a quite impressive sip.

Ernst was looking around when suddenly their eyes met. Hanschen nodded to him, and Ernst walked over. Smiling to himself, Hanschen uncrossed his legs and made room for Ernst on the bench.

"Hello, Ernst," he said swallowing another sip of his alcohol. Ernst nodded to him.

"H-Hello, Hanschen."

"I didn't know you drank," Hanschen said, leaning against the wall behind him.

Ernst blushed a little. "I don't normally…it's been quite a long week."

"I understand. In fact, I find it a little intriguing that you drink."

"Intriguing?"

Hanschen leaned in, letting his breath tickle the back of Ernst's neck as he spoke. "Yes, very intriguing."

"Why?"

"I'm curious is all."

"Curious?" Ernst took another sip of his bottle.

Hanschen stood, leaving Ernst alone to finish his bottle. Hanschen took a deep breath. Things couldn't get any better.

Very drunk by this point, Hanschen put himself in the middle of the crowd, talking to a few of the girls, with his eye on small Ernst who had finished his first beer. He was onto his second, and doing well with it, Hanschen noted.

After Ernst finished his second drink, Hanschen went back to the bench, finding Ernst was already very drunk. He put a hand on Ernst's leg, rubbing gently on his thigh. Ernst looked up at him. His classmate really couldn't handle his alcohol.

"You look like you should go home, Ernst," Hanschen said. "You're very drunk."

"I, I only had two drinks, Hansi," Ernst replied, grabbing onto his arm.

"I'll walk you home. It's late." Helping the other boy stand, Hanschen quickly left the house, without anyone noticing that they were gone.

Outside the house, night had long fallen and it was completely black except for the blue glow of the moon through the clouds. It was a cold night, and Hanschen held Ernst close to him. Ernst suddenly stopped walking, leaning against the bricks of the house. "I'm so dizzy, Hansi."

Hanschen felt his heart racing as he leaned in close to Ernst, pressing his chest up against his classmate's. "I'll help you, don't worry." Without a second thought, he leaned in and pressed his lips against Ernst's.

The boy who was drunk beneath him, wrapped his arms around Hanschen's neck, pulling him closer. Surprised by such an energetic response, Hanschen deepened the kiss, moaning as their pelvises pressed together. A chill went up his spine as he realized he was kissing Ernst. He was finally kissing a man. And it was amazing. It was nothing like the girls he had kissed before. Ernst would never remember it, but it didn't matter. It was happening.

Hanschen let his hands roam across Ernst's body, brushing his fingers across Ernst's front. Ernst moaned and leaned into Hanschen's hand. "Oh god," they whispered together.

"I am so drunk, Hansi," Ernst slurred between kisses.

"Me too, Ernst, but let's not think about it."

"Okay," he moaned as Hanschen's hands continued to explore the boy's body.

Suddenly, a door opened from above them and they jumped apart, Ernst practically falling into his arms from his drunkenness.

Nothing else ensued. Hanschen knew it would be a risk to continue any more than they had already started. Getting caught would be fatal. Together, they left the house, Hanschen supporting Ernst the entire way home.

They saw each other the next day, and though Hanschen remembered every detail of the night, it was clear Ernst had no recollection. It was better that way.


	11. I Believe

Never once had Hanschen been so thankful for being partnered with Ernst. They made their way out of school together, taking a seat on one of the benches in the yard. Pulling out their books, Hanschen felt Ernst's arm brush his. He shuddered a little at the contact, wishing he could touch Ernst right then and there. He kept remembering kiss they had shared, both drunk and vulnerable. Hanschen wanted nothing more than to do it again. But, Ernst didn't remember. And Hanschen was almost afraid to go for it when they were both sober. He had no clue what Ernst's reaction would be if he knew what had happened.

They were supposed to be discussing a book they were reading in class. They had been given a series of questions to answer about it and then share with their partner.

"Would you like to answer them separately and then share answers or do it all together?" Hanschen asked the boy next to him.

Ernst shrugged. "I-I don't care, Hanschen."

"How about we answer them separately and then share?" Ernst nodded, turning to bury his head in the book.

Hanschen didn't care much for the book. It had a little bit of adventure in it, but it was mostly a love story. The story made him sick. He hated reading about love stories. They always began and ended the same. There was no variety. It wasn't realistic.

The questions were straightforward. They asked about the characters, the plot, and themes. Hanschen found he quickly finished them. The last question made him stop. It read:

"What is your opinion on the love story presented in the novel? Is it realistic? Would a love like this actually last?"

Hanschen was shocked that their teacher would ask such a question. It wasn't exactly normal to discuss things so personal in the classroom. He wondered why it was being asked. Ernst seemed to be completely occupied in his writing, his head buried in his notebook. "Ernst? Are you on the last question by any chance?"

Ernst looked up, his face slightly red. "Yes, I…I am writing my answer now."

"I seem to be having trouble with this one."

"You want me to read mine?"

"Yes."

Ernst looked nervous. Though, he always did. He picked up his notebook and read: "I enjoyed reading the love story in the novel, but I do not think it is realistic. I believe that love can occur in many forms besides the ones read about. I believe that there is love everywhere, even in Heaven. Even if you are not with the one you love, you can still love them. I believe that even if society doesn't support who you love, you will still be forgiven. As for the love in the novel, I think it would last because it is what our society believes to be the definition of love: a man and woman of the same race who get married and have a family. However, I believe there are other forms of love besides this." Hanschen widened his eyes. He had never heard Ernst be so bold about anything. Ernst had spoken without a single stutter. It was the first time Hanschen had heard him speak so confidently. "I'll erase most of it, it wasn't very good."

"It was very good, Ernst," Hanschen replied, unsure of what else to say. He was still processing it himself. It blew his mind that Ernst was so passionate about something that was so…unchristian. Did Ernst have the same ideas in his head?

"I feel like it's not going to go over well. I-I should erase it."

Hanschen reached over and grabbed his hand, holding it tightly. "Don't erase it." Ernst looked up at him with eyes. "Just don't." Ernst looked confused, but he nodded and put his pencil down. "Can I ask you something, Ernst?"

"Of-of course, Hanschen."

"What would you say if two men were in love?"

"T-two men?"

"Yes, two men." Hanschen stood from where they were sitting and paced in front of Ernst. "Let's say there are two men who love each other as much as a husband and wife love each other. Is that wrong?"

"Well the church-,"

"Fuck what the church says," Hanschen replied, squatting down to look Ernst in the eye. "Is it wrong for them to want to be together?"

"Are you asking if _I_ think it's wrong?"

"I am."

"Well _I_ don't find it wrong, but they would never be allowed to be together."

"Do you think God would forgive them even if they were homosexual?" Ernst fell silent, looking down at his paper. Hanschen reached out and touched his shoulder. "Answer me."

"I-I do. I don't see why two people can't love each other…even if they are two men."

Hanschen nodded. "You're a smart boy, Ernst." He settled down next to Ernst again, sitting back down on the bench.

Hanschen watched the boy as he continued to work on the questions. He felt his heart race a little. There was something about Ernst, something more than lust that Hanschen was beginning to like. And it was terrifying.


End file.
